


In This Moment

by onedoorcinemas



Series: In Sickness and in Health [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crying, Dancing, F/M, Fluff, Like loads of it, Love, Party, Ron's POV, Vows, Wedding panic, Weddings, harry as best man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 09:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15579084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onedoorcinemas/pseuds/onedoorcinemas
Summary: "Ron took a sideways glance at Hermione. He took her hand and squeezed it which made her look up. He smiled at her.'We are gathered here today, to join these two wonderful people in matrimony. They agreed to share their lives, their sorrows and their happiness for the remainder of both of their lives and enter a new phase of their relationship with each other.'”





	In This Moment

 

 **In This Moment**  
_Ron and Hermione (15th November 2000)_

A crisp chill hung in the air when he woke up. The grass on the hills surrounding the burrow was covered in white frost for the first time this autumn. He smiled when he noticed it. Late autumn had always been his favourite season; He knew hers was springtime, but she appreciated the little things in life, so he was sure she’d love this coincidence just as much as he did.  
He got up and dressed in an old pair of jeans, he had found in his closet yesterday, and his old but faithful if slightly washed-out Chudley Cannons t-shirt. The stairs creaked when he stepped on them, like they always had. He passed Ginny’s room on the floor below his and made it to the kitchen. His mother was puttering around in it, distractedly, letting the sausages burn in the pan. Ron leapt forwards and pulled it away from the fire. There was smoke coming from them and they had been burned black on one side.  
“Oh, damn it!” His mother swore as she turned around.  
“Good morning, Ron.” She then said, switching from annoyed to sweet in an instant.  
“Morning, Mum,” he replied, fishing the sausages out of the grease and inspecting them.

“Throw them away, I’ll make new ones.” His mother instructed him. “I want everything to be perfect, today, honey.” She didn’t wait for him to say anything in return but made a second pan fly out of the cupboard. Ron watched as a new batch of sausages started frying in it, sizzling and hissing over the heat of the fire.  
Household charms fascinated him, and in the past year he had managed to learn a few tricks, but he would probably never be as proficient and fast or as skillful as his mum. Hermione was pretty good, too, although she never had time to learn anything beyond the basics, which, of course, she excelled at. She knew enough to get a meal ready when she needed to but mostly it was Ron who did the cooking and washing-up.  
He stole one of the burnt sausages and ate it quickly. It tasted bitter and made him feel glad his mother was making new ones.

“How d’you do that?” He asked, “make the sausages fry themselves?” He added.  
His mother turned around to him, looking up from the counter where she had been pondering over what looked like the seating chart for this evening.  
“Oh, it’s easy, really. The spell is a bit complicated though. Two spells, actually. There are two separate steps,” she began to elaborate, “the first one is basically a summoning charm. But instead of having the summoned things come to you, you make them go on the stove. And-“  
“But how do I stop the things from coming to me when I summon them? I’ve never done that.” Ron interrupted her.  
“Oh, well, you show the charm where to adhere to, of course. Can you picture the way you move your wand when you summon something?”  
Ron nodded; It was a circular movement of the wrist and a small flick backwards-upwards at the end.  
“Well,” his mother continued, grabbing her wand from beside the kitchen sink, “that small flick in the end is the indicator of where the summoned object is desired to go.” She performed the movement. “The flick you learn in school is the easiest and most natural one. It refers to yourself.” She twisted and flicked her wrist again and said, loud and clearly: “ _Accio eggs!_ ” Of course, they came flying from the lumber-room and she caught them in her free hand.  
“Now if I wanted to have the eggs fly to the counter, I would have to concentrate on that, and the flick at the end of my wand movement would also need to go in its direction." She explained.  
"Watch!” She raised her wand again and said “ _Accio bacon!_ ” Her wrist with the wand twisted and then she flicked it towards the counter next to her. It was easy to miss, that movement, as it was so small. The strips of bacon came flying into the room and aligned themselves neatly on the counter.

“Cool.” Ron muttered and saw a glad smile flash across his mother’s face.  
“You can also make the pan and the bacon join on the stove but that’s complicated, even for me and I must have done it thousands of times by now.” His mother explained. “The trick is, to cast two charms at the same time. One adhering the bacon to the pan, and one summoning the pan to go on the stove. If you do it fast enough the bacon will only reach the pan when it’s already sitting on the fire. It took me a couple of attempts before I managed to not make the bacon fly into the cupboard and then having pan and bacon come from there to the stove." She gave a little laugh at the memory. "It only ever works properly with wordless magic.”  
Ron laughed heartily, as he pictured the situation.  
“I’m glad you’re taking an interest in these things." His mother smiled "People often take housework for granted but it’s a load of work, really, if I’m being honest.”  
Ron hugged her, then.  
“You’re the best, Mum.” He murmured.

The sausages turned out perfectly this time around and when Arthur entered the kitchen, breakfast was ready. Only Ron had stayed at his parents’ house for the night, all of his brothers were still at their respective homes. Ginny, who was Hermione's Maid of Honour, had stayed with her at their place.  
It was the first time ever it was just the three of them, Ron and his parents, at the large table and he couldn’t help but feeling very special.  
“Seriously, mum, you should teach charms. Or write a book. This stuff’s brilliant.” He suggested between two bites of scrambled eggs.  
"I told her that ages ago, Son." his father chimed in, "but she insists its nothing special and I've given up." He reached across the table and took his wife's hand. She smiled at him.  
"It's just housework, Arthur." She murmured.  
"But it's brilliant housework, my dear. I've never seen anyone do what you manage around here." He insisted and squeezed her hand briefly before he returned to his breakfast. Ron had never witnessed a tender moment like this between his parents and he smiled into his scrambled eggs.

Harry dropped in when they were almost finished eating. He wished them a good morning brightly, even though it was almost eleven o’clock already. Ron's heart picked up a bit of momentum when he noticed the time. Three more hours until their wedding would start.  
“How are your nerves?” Harry asked Ron, grinning.  
“Okay, I guess.” He replied, grinning as well, “but the worst part is yet to come.”  
“It’s gonna be great.” Harry promised.  
"I swung by your place ths morning," Harry told Ron. "Ginny forgot her neclace at Grimmauld Place and I brought it to her." “Have you seen Hermione?” Ron couldn’t resist asking.  
“I have.” Harry teased.  
“And how was she?” Ron pried, annoyed.  
“That’s none of your business.” Harry deadpanned.  
“The fuck it is!” Ron replied heatedly but grinning, “she’s my fiancée, of course it’s my business!”  
“Fuck off.” Harry laughed. “She was fine last time I saw her. She and Ginny were about to get ready when I left.”

It wasn’t until he had showered and was standing in his room looking at the navy-blue suit hanging on the door, that his nerves really started acting up. He ignored it at first, taking the suit’s white-collared shirt and putting it on. The buttons seemed to be smaller than usual, even tinier than at the final fitting a week ago. They slipped from his grip and it took him a few attempts at each until he managed to close it.  
He pulled on the trousers next, tucking the shirt carefully inside them. Everything had been made to fit him exactly. He almost couldn’t believe trousers could cling to his figure this perfectly. He had never owned a pair that had.  
Harry came into the room just when he was about to pull on the jacket.  
“You okay?” He asked.  
“Yeah. Nervous, but excited.” He murmured quietly.  
“Hermione and Ginny just arrived.” Harry informed him, holding his jacket out for him to put it on. Ron’s heart started hammering in his chest.  
“They’re here?” He asked hoarsely, “how does she look?”  
“I can’t tell you, and you know it. But she’s beautiful, of course.” Harry said.

Half an hour later Ron had worked himself into a proper panic. He sat on his bed and stared at the wall opposite him. His breathing was going fast and he had trouble getting air into his lungs in the first place. His heart was still hammering somewhere between his chest and the back of his palate. He felt sick to a point where he found himself swallowing continuously. Harry sat beside him, and was trying to calm him down, but his words didn’t reach him. The thoughts in his head were swirling, playing him an exclusive clip of the many ways he could make an arse of himself at the ceremony – there was a whole cacophony of things he could get wrong: Fall, have words fail him, forget his vows, drop the ring, kiss her too early or too late, tread on her veil, step on her foot… A million possible embarrassments filled his head, making him dizzy. He didn’t want to fail. Today, of all days, needed to be perfect.

“Ron, mate, you need to calm the fuck down!”, Harry reminded him, a tad concerned. “You’re hyperventilating.”  
Ron tried, but the toxic thoughts were not going away. He had been in situations like this before, when he had got into his own head and everything from his thoughts to the actual world had started spinning. He couldn’t let this happen. Not today, when it was supposed to be a wonderful day. He wanted to be calm; he wanted to be there in the moment with her. He loved her, and he wanted this day to be perfect for her. But his fear of failing, of getting everything wrong paralysed him and he couldn’t get out of his own head.

“She’d not gonna mind, you know?” Harry murmured.  
“Mind what?” Ron asked dully, his voice low and wavering. He took a deep breath in a feeble attempt at calming himself. If he was being honest, he’d already given up on succeeding.  
“If anything happens.” Harry said. “I know what you’re scared of and yes, technically all of what you’re thinking of could happen but even if it does, who’d care? She won’t mind, she loves you and you’re perfect for each other.” He spoke in a low voice, rushed and hasty. “And isn’t this day here to basically say ‘Fuck you’ to the entire world?” It was a rhetorical question. “You literally say it in your vows: She’s your best friend, the only one closest to you.”  
Ron managed a nod, swallowed down on his nausea and replied: “I know.”  
His heartbeat didn’t slow much, but over the next few minutes he started feeling less and less sick until only a small prickle in his stomach remained. Breathing got easier, too, and when Harry said, “It’s time, let’s go,” Ron was actually able to get up, close the button of his jacket and walk out of the room.  
“Wait!” Harry called after him. He turned around and Harry was waving at him with a small box.  
“We forgot our boutonnières.” He took the small arrangements and fastened one of them on Ron’s jacket. Then he strode over to the mirror on the wall and put on his own. He turned to face Ron, a genuine smile on his face.  
“Ready?” He asked softly.  
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Ron answered.  
“Then, let’s get you married.”

He could hear the buzzing of the crowd from outside the little chapel on the hill right behind his house. The chapel had once been a sacred building for the muggles of the area but they had abandoned it. For as long as Ron could remember the tall doors had been closed and nobody had come to visit it.  
Hermione and he had set their minds on the place even before Ron had asked her to be his wife. Over the last couple of weeks, they had restored the small building, cleaned it and rendered it ready for the ceremony. When he and Harry stepped over the threshold, the light filtered through the windows. It wasn’t exactly sunny but a bit of light had fought through the clouds. Inside, it was warm, unlike outside where the air was bitingly cold.  
They made their way to the front of the rectangular room. Everyone was chatting, greeting each other, caching up and Ron found himself shaking hands and hugging his friends and family; but he was unable to keep up a conversation. They had invited about a hundred people, three quarters of them seemed to be already there. Thankfully, they let him be for the time being, maybe they knew that he wasn’t good company, nervous as he was.

The officiant was a tall, middle-aged witch from the ministry. She was called Tirena Doge but Ron had never dared to ask her if she was related to Elphias Doge. She was nice enough, though, during their meetings and discussions of how they wanted the ceremony to be.  
When Mrs. Doge came up to him, he needed a few seconds to come out of his reverie.  
“Hi, Mr. Weasley.” She beamed at him. “Are you ready?”  
He nodded. “I think I am.” He said and tried to smile.  
“Very well then. If you would just come up to the podium with me,” she said. “And you, too, Mr. Potter, please.” She called, and Harry tore away from Ron’s mother who had been talking to him frantically. Slowly, the chatter ebbed away and the crowd fell silent. Music started playing and Ron felt Harry’s elbow in his side, nudging him to turn around.

And there she was, standing in the open gates of the chapel, light filtering through behind her. Ron’s breath caught in his throat and his eyes filled with tears instantly. Her dress was beautiful, of course, but he focused on her face: she was beaming, but there were tears rolling down her cheeks.  
She was walking down the narrow aisle in the middle of the room, between the seats. She was alone; had insisted that she didn't want anybody to give her away because she wasn't leaving her old life, her parents and family behind. She didn't switch the Grangers for the Weasleys but simply added them all together. Ron loved the idea. And he didn't mind that she was keeping her name. _Hermione Weasley_ sounded wrong.  
Their eyes locked and all his nervousness was gone in an instant. This was why he was here, because of her, because of the two of them and not for anybody else.  
She wasn’t wearing a veil, and Ron found it fitting. She didn’t need to hide – not her face, not her hair and most certainly not her brilliance, her sharpness of mind and her courage. Her dress wasn’t white, either. More of a cream, almost beige colour that created a wonderful contrast to her skin tone and complimented her eyes. It was long and flowy and hugged her figure beautifully in the right places. It was long sleeved and the bust was embroidered with thousands and thousands of sequins and pearls.  
The bouquet she carried in her hand was made of dark red flowers: roses and some others Ron didn’t know. She smiled and looked at him and he stared at her until she had reached him, Ginny at her heels.

“Hi.”, she breathed when she finally stood next to him.  
“Hey there.” He murmured back. “You look stunning.”  
She smiled at him a little bit broader and then turned away from each other to face Mrs. Doge.  
“Welcome,” she started, looking at the crowd behind them, “to this joyous occasion.”

“Chance brought them together, seen as Hermione's parents didn’t know magic existed until their daughter got her letter from Hogwarts.” Mrs. Doge turned a page in her notepad, “’It changed my life’, the Bride told me at one of our meetings when we discussed the details. ‘Did it change for the better or for worse?’ I asked,” she continued and Hermione sobbed quietly. Ron ran a thumb across the back of her hand which he was still holding.  
“And she then said: ‘I went from being an unpopular, brainy girl at a mediocre elementary school, to being an unpopular, brainy student at one of the best magic schools there are. And even though it took them a while to like me, I found the two best friends in the world right there, as if they had been waiting for me. They liked me for who I was and were still my friends when I can only describe myself as annoying. We stuck out a horrible, disgusting and terrifying war together and we survived. One of them became my brother and the other is my soulmate. So, you be the judge of that.’” Hermione sobbed again, a quiet almost soundless heave of her body. Ron squeezed her hand a little tighter and continued stroking his thumb across her hand.

“When I asked the groom the same thing he answered: ‘I was an anxiety ridden train-wreck when we met, and I still am one today. What's changed is that I now know where to turn to, when I feel overwhelmed, when I drown in my own thoughts and can’t find a way out. She’ll listen to whatever I worry about and comfort me when it all feels like too much. She'll hold my hand and be silent when I need it, or she'll joke around and make me laugh and forget about why I was anxious in the first place. Which means everything has changed.’”

Ron got goose bumps at the recollection of what he said about five weeks ago in that small office at the ministry. It had been one of the less good days and they had just come from registering for marriage. It had taken several minutes in the waiting area for him to calm down enough to be able to knock and enter the small room. Hermione had simply sat there, held his hand and talked about how wonderful the weather was that day and how much she hated the visitors’ entrance to the ministry. She hadn’t waited for him to answer, simply filled the silence with her words until he felt safe and confident enough to take the next step.

The minister took a deep breath, “Judging by that, I think we can all agree that this is a union made of love, loyalty and respect, a match made from suffering, laughing, crying and never giving up hope; side by side and surrounded by friends and family.”

"And so, I ask you, Ron," Mrs. Doge continued. "Do you promise to love Hermione freely – without restrictions, honestly – without deceit and now – without hesitation?" She asked.  
Ron cleared his throat.  
"I do." He said and couldn't help a grin spreading on his face.  
"And do you, Hermione, promise to love Ron freely – without hesitation, honestly – without deceit and now – without hesitation?"  
"I do." Hermione's voice rang clear. She beamed at him, and squeezed his hand. He grinned back.

“The couple”, Mrs. Doge continued after a short pause, “have selected this to be the defining words of their commitment: ‘Love is not looking at each other; but looking together in the same direction.’ As Hermione told me it’s by a famous French Muggle who was a philosopher and an author.”  
Hermione nodded next to Ron.  
“His name was Antoine de Saint-Exupéry and I did some research and found another quote from one of his books. He said, pardon my French: ‘Tu seras pour moi unique au monde. Je serai pour toi unique au monde.’ In English you would say: ’You will be unique in the world for me and I will be unique in the world for you.’”

Mrs. Doge paused yet again, turned a page and went on: “And with these beautiful words in mind I ask you both to face each other and join hands. You have written down the reasons you want to enter this marriage with each other, and now, Ron, please, let us hear them.”  
Ron’s throat closed immediately as he turned to face Hermione. He took her other hand in his, too, and swallowed. Contrary to what he had expected, he still remembered clearly what he wanted to say. But he wasn’t sure he was going to get the words past the giant lump in his throat that threatened to suffocate him. His heart was hammering against his ribcage again as if trying to escape its enclosure to join Hermione's in her chest. This was it – the inevitable choke, he had feared – it was there. Hermione was looking at him expectantly, eyes wide, the traces her tears had left in the make-up clearly visible. She squeezed his hand and whispered, “Come on, you can do it.” He smiled at her and started speaking, voice trembling and hoarse.  
“Hermione, I love you. I think I always have." He began. "I love you because you care – about so much and for so many people and the fact that I am one of them humbles me every time I think about it. I love that you read fifty times as many books as me and I love how you get exasperated when I don’t get a reference to a book I supposedly should have read ages ago. I love that you can do everything – I’m not kidding: Even though you hate flying, you’re still pretty decent at it.” He took a deep breath and his heartbeat steadied a bit but not much at all. His hands were sweaty and he felt the sweat break on his back, too.  
“I love that you chose me, even though you could have so many others who are better-read, better-behaved, have impeccable manners and are more handsome, funnier and smarter. I love that I now use big words like impeccable sometimes, all because of you." The was chuckling in the crowd, and Hermione laughed, too.  
"And I promise the one thing to you that I can promise you: I will always be there for you, whether with a silly joke, a kiss or a cup of tea and a cigarette to keep you from overworking.” He closed his speech. Hermione smiled at him, her face tearstained again.  
“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Beautifully said,” the officiant took over, “and now, Hermione, let’s hear yours.”  
Hermione swallowed, took a shaky breath to stop the sobs and tried for a smile again. It seemed to come easy and it lit up her face.  
“You know,” she started, “I don’t say it nearly enough. I love you. I do and I appreciate you for who you are and what you do. I admire you for your humour, your ability to bounce back and your heart that is always wide open. I love that you cook better than me and that you remind me to take a break now and again. I love that you don't mind me smoking when I'm stressed and I love that you smoke with me, sometimes just so I don't have to stand outside by myself." She sniffed. “You sometimes get caught in your own head – in a good way, most of the times but also in a dark way, occasionally. And I know these hard times trouble you a lot. I promise you to always be there on such occasions and do everything in my might to help you get through them.”, she finished, sniffing once more.  
"And I can’t wait to be married to you. I love you.”  
Tears were prickling in Ron’s eyes as he listened to her words and watched her speak. She seemed so calm, so at ease and confident. Confidence was a good look on her, it made her glow.

“So then, I ask you to repeat after me the words that many before you have said and many after you will say as well. They bring you from being engaged to being married.” Mrs. Doge said, “Ron, you go first; Please repeat after me.” Ron swallowed again.  
“I, Ronald Bilius Weasley,” she began.  
“I, Ronald Bilius Weasley,” He repeated, looking at Hermione. She was smiling and crying at the same time.  
“Take thee, Hermione Jean Granger,”  
“Take thee, Hermione Jean Granger” He had never used her full legal name before. Yet, it flowed out of his mouth easily. He tried to smile at her.  
_“To be my wife.”_  
_“To have and to hold”_  
_“From this day forward”_  
_“For better, for worse”_  
_“for richer, for poorer”_  
_“to love and to cherish”_  
_“as long as we both shall live”_  
It was over so fast he could hardly grasp the moment – he could, however grasp the look on Hermione’s face, one of pure joy: eyes wide and misty, a broad smile and flushed cheeks.  
“Now Hermione, it’s your turn. Please repeat after me.” Mrs. Doge said and smiled.  
“I, Hermione Jean Granger”  
“I, Hermione Jean Granger” She smiled at him while she waited for their officiant to feed her the next line.  
“take thee, Ronald Bilius Weasley”  
“take thee, Ronald Bilius Weasley” The tears had come back again, and listening to her vows, watching her cry and smile at the same time while she spoke, voice ringing clear, he loved her so much he thought he was going to burst.  
“to be my husband.”  
“to have and to hold”  
He couldn’t fight back the tears when they came and let them run down his nose, not letting go of her hand to wipe them away.  
_“From this day forward”_  
_“For better, for worse”_  
_“For richer, for poorer”_  
_“to love and to cherish”_  
_“as long as we both shall live.”_

She smiled at him, but her lips were trembling and tears were pooling in her eyes and spilling out of the corner. He squeezed her hands lightly.  
There was a moment of silence, only interrupted by sniffing and sobbing. A lot of people seemed to have been very moved.  
"May I please call forward the bearer of the rings?" Mrs. Doge finally continued. A chorus of oohs and aaahs reverberated through the crowd. Ron turned to see Teddy walk down the aisle, a white box clutched in his tiny hands. Andromeda was behind him, making sure he arrived in front of them safely and in a timely manner.  
Mrs. Doge took one of the rings from the box once she had opened it, straightened up again, and held the ring out to Ron.  
"To symbolise the commitment you give to each other, you will now exchange rings." She explained, her voice the same steady flow as it had been since the beginning of the ceremony.  
"Ron, please put the ring on Hermione's finger and repeat after me."  
He took the ring from her and looked at Hermione. She held out her left hand and he took it, sliding the ring carefully on her finger.  
"With this ring, I thee wed. All that I am, and all that I have is now yours, forever." He spoke slowly, savouring the moment, tasting the forever on the tip of his tongue. He was not at all nervous anymore. He smiled at her and she beamed back when she heard his pledge.  
Her promise was fierce and powerful, and it gave Ron goose bumps hearing her pledging her loyalty so openly. It still seemed very surreal to him that she had chosen him.  
"By the power invested in me I pronounce you husband and wife." Mrs. Doge proclaimed. "You may seal your vows with a kiss."  
Hermione was still holding his left hand in hers and so he pulled her close with his right, sealing her lips with his, closing his eyes. He felt her warmth against his body and felt her face close to his and he wanted to sing, to scream, to celebrate because they would be together forever from now on.  
People started to applaud, someone hollered, and a few people were whistling.  
They parted and Ron grinned down at Hermione; She was beaming as well.  
“I love you so much,” he whispered down to her as the music started playing. It was a slow song, incredibly sweet. Ron reached for his wife’s hand and led her up the aisle, passing their friends and relatives who were smiling and occasionally wiping their eyes.

It was snowing outside when they walked over the threshold, and Hermione clung onto him. The snow wasn't staying but turned into sludge as soon as it touched the ground. They were celebrating in a tent next to the chapel. Strong heating charms had been necessary to warm it up enough, but now it was nice and cosy when they entered. Harry and Ginny were the first to congratulate and the four of them were tangled in a group hug. His parents were next, his mother first. She was clutching a handkerchief in her left hand.  
"I'm so, so happy for you." She sobbed when she pulled him close. "Congratulations."  
His father hugged him, too, after his mother had thrown herself at Hermione.  
"Congratulations, Son." He murmured.  
After a while, he couldn't discern the people anymore who hugged him. He tried to look at each of them and offer them thanks but there were just so many people he lost track and focus.  
The next few hours went by in a haze. They ate a delicious meal; and he talked to a lot of people, their words and well-wishes blurring into one another.

He came back to reality when the first people started to leave. Andromeda and Teddy were among the first, followed by a brigade of their older relatives.  
They had hired a band and they started to play at around ten.  
Opting out of a traditional wedding dance had been Hermione's idea but Ron had gladly agreed to it. Now, however, as he was listening to the band play an old favourite of his he remembered from his childhood, he actually felt like dancing. Especially since a few pairs were already circling on the dancefloor.  
"'Scuse me." He muttered to Seamus who had been talking to him and got up.  
He found Hermione talking to Harry and Ginny at the table in the centre. They were laughing and joking around. He took a moment to watch the scene, before he approached the table and laid a hand on Hermione's back. She leaned against him, resting her had on his stomach.  
"Are you okay?" She asked. He hummed reassuringly.  
"Do you want to dance?" He asked her and her face lit up.  
"I'd love to." She breathed and got up.  
Ron was not a good dancer – he knew the steps of standard dances but he never seemed to be in time, always messing up the rhythm. His only hope at getting anything right was Hermione who, as so often, was better at it than him. She was guiding him on the dancefloor, now, too, and somehow, he managed not to step on the hem of her dress. She smiled at him while they went round and round the pavement a bit clumsily but he still felt like he was soaring, flying ten feet above everyone else.  
"I love you." He told her.  
"I love you, too." She replied.  
They stopped dancing, so they could kiss, warm lips finding each other as they had so often before, and yet, it felt utterly different. It truly was like flying, and Ron never wanted to come down.  
In this moment, it was perfect.

**E N D**

**Author's Note:**

> A little heacanon of how Hermione and Ron's wedding could have gone down. I hope you liked it.


End file.
